IN PERSON; Even His Blisters Have Blisters

By DAVE CALDWELL

Published: April 16, 2006

ANDY KOTULSKI said he had never run through so much water in his life. Considering that he has run in 562 marathons, that's really saying something. The rain had started the day before, and stretches of the course were under water up to his knees.

Mr. Kotulski, lanky and lithe even at 66, slogged on. Then the steady rain turned into a downpour on the island of Hawaii last month, slowing him even more. But Mr. Kotulski does not pay as much attention to the stopwatch as he does to his surroundings.

Soon enough, he was treated to a joyous sound.

''The streams were roaring like freight trains,'' he said, smiling. ''Gosh, it was unbelievable.''

And that is why Mr. Kotulski runs on.

He plans to run Monday in the 110th Boston Marathon. It will be his 29th consecutive ''Boston,'' as marathoners like to refer to the race. But his next marathon may as well be his first, given his enthusiasm.

''People who go to Boston have come to run,'' he said over coffee one recent afternoon. ''It's good to get high fives from the crowd and everything, but you want to go there and do your best. Most of the people who run there really let it all hang out.''

Mr. Kotulski, who lives here in Montclair, will consider himself fortunate to finish the marathon in four hours -- almost double the probable winning time. But he expects to finish, and for a man who has diminished lung capacity and leaky heart valves, he says he will be happy to finish strong.

''Some guys golf on Sundays,'' he said. ''I run marathons.''

A former smoker who once inhaled two packs of Pall Malls a day, Mr. Kotulski has run marathons all over the world and at least 5 in each of the 50 states.

His first was the 1977 New York City Marathon, which he was so delighted to finish that, as he said, ''I wanted to turn around and run the other way.''

Mr. Kotulski continued to run after he nearly died following a marathon in Moscow on Sept. 9, 2001. After the race, he went to St. Petersburg to do some sightseeing.

He rose from a park bench to walk back to his hotel the afternoon of Sept. 11 when, in his words, ''the air just went out of me.'' Eerily, he said, his illness came at about the same time as the World Trade Center towers were destroyed.

He became violently ill and had to remain in his hotel for a week. With the help of a college student whom he had hired to give him a ride from the airport, Mr. Kotulski, using a wheelchair, left Russia.

Eventually, he made it to the Port Authority Bus Terminal in Manhattan to catch the last bus of the day back to his home. He said, laughing at his persistence, ''I just didn't want to die not at home -- what a strange thing.''

He ended up in the emergency ward at Mountainside Hospital in Montclair. A bacterial infection of undetermined origin had led to double pneumonia. He was told that his organs were shutting down. A priest administered last rites.

But he made it through the night and stayed at the hospital for a couple of weeks. One day, he got up to look at himself in the mirror and saw his bones through his skin. He tried to walk but could take only one or two steps. He was eventually discharged, and a doctor weaned him off heavy doses of antibiotics. Mr. Kotulski started walking two blocks to get the newspaper. Then he started running again.

''I'd run two steps today, and I'd say, 'Let's give 'em hell tomorrow and go for three,' '' he said.

Because no one told him he could not run, he ran the Boston Marathon in April 2002 -- seven months after the marathon in Moscow. He completed the course in 3 hours 55 minutes, only 16 minutes slower than his time in the 2001 Boston Marathon.

''It took a while for him to get back, but not nearly as long as I thought it would,'' said Bill Mishler, a Bloomfield resident and a friend of Mr. Kotulski's who has run in a mere 65 marathons.

Mr. Kotulski, a native of Chicago who moved to New Jersey in 1976, said he had missed so much work after his infection that he ''got retired'' from his job as an engineer for a cryogenics company. That was fine, in a way. He had more time to run. As Mr. Kotulski, who lives alone and has no wife or children, says, ''I'm married to my running.''

He began hitting the streets in the late 1960's and became good at it, posting marathon times well under three hours. One year, he ran 52 marathons. He compiled a remarkable streak in which he ran at least four miles every day -- for 26 years.

''I'm not really addicted to running marathons,'' he said. ''I just like to do races in different places.''

He runs now because he always has. He considers a run of any length to be challenging and therapeutic. Mr. Kotulski does not always feel like running every day, but he is almost always glad he did. He can chase the blues with a good run.

''It's tough to cry and run at the same time,'' he said. ''Things are not that bad after you finish a run, no matter what the problem is. It's just a matter of taking the first step.''

Other than occasional aches and pains, he has not injured himself running. His knees and ankles have been resilient, and he has a theory that weekend warriors are more susceptible to injuries because they often pick up a sport and put it down.

Mr. Kotulski started running when long-distance runners were pretty much on their own. There were no sophisticated running shoes or books or advice to be had. In his early 40's, he ran 80 to 100 miles a week and bicycled another 80 to 100 miles a week.

''Some days it is tough, but I think a runner knows that 99 times out of 100, once you walk out that door, you're good to go,'' said Tom Fleming, an acquaintance of Mr. Kotulski's who is the track coach at Montclair Kimberley Academy. ''You don't have to go to Yankee Stadium for this. Every day, Yankee Stadium is at your front door.''

Mr. Fleming has run in 63 marathons. A two-time winner of the New York City Marathon, he stopped running marathons when he could not win. He admires runners like Mr. Kotulski because they are persistent and patient.

''His passion is what other people would consider as hard work,'' Mr. Fleming said.

Because of the Boston Marathon's prestige, a runner must post a qualifying time, and Mr. Kotulski has insisted on posting his time in the previous year's race. ''Bostons'' are not easy races in which to post a qualifying time. The course is notoriously hilly.

But Mr. Kotulski plans to keep returning. He is one of 38 members of the Quarter-Century Club, whose members have active streaks of running in the Boston Marathon at least 25 years in a row.

''It's like coming home again,'' said Ronald Kmiec, a 63-year-old concert pianist from Carlisle, Mass., who is the president of the club. ''At this point, it's like a labor of love. For lack of a better term, it's a trip to Mecca for us.''

That trip for Mr. Kotulski begins late each afternoon at his front doorstep. Sometimes, he tells himself that he will run down to the traffic light and turn around if he does not feel like running.

''But it's never felt that bad,'' he said. ''It just gets better.''

Photo: Andy Kotulski, running at Brookdale Park in Montclair, plans to run in the 110th Boston Marathon. (Photo by Marko Georgiev for The New York Times)